I’ve never been a particularly domestic kind of girl. I’ve only recently started appreciating housewares, and that’s only because I finally live in a house instead of an apartment and my roommate happens to be someone I see myself with for an extremely extended amount of time.
I don’t cook and nobody has ever jokingly called me Betty Crocker or… any other name you would call someone to suggest they’re, well, domestic.
See? I don’t even know jokes/insults for it. Hell, it took me 5 minutes just to come up with that sentence. And it’s not even a good sentence.
I’ve spent the past… ohhh let’s see, I moved here at the end of April 2008 so that would mean… 11 months bitching, moaning and otherwise complaining about the house we rent. It’s too small. There’s not enough cupboard space (Hello! I might not cook but I need ROOM for my chips and boxed meals, thankyouverymuch.). It’s dusty/dirty. There’s no screen door (yeah, I like screen doors). Etc., etc., etc.
I spend all this time bitching (and, really, bitching doesn’t even accurately describe it – think tantrums, minus the flailing on the floor) and no time DOING anything about it.
Huh. Not really thinkin’ this through, are ya, Kac?
Every now and then I use this thing in my head called a brain, which allows me to reason and be, ya know, logical.
Not often, mind you. My defense has been, historically, that I have to use it every day at work (or school, when I did that whole bit), so when I’m at home I just *click* turn it off.
So today, as I was standing in the kitchen and texting a certain co-worker about how the house makes me cry (true story), I had a thought: Why not just fucking clean.
Question? No. Statement. Why not.
So I did.
And while the house is still too small (a problem that would be solved if we were to buy one of those portable shed thingies, which is a thought that JUST came to mind) and there still isn’t enough cupboard space, I see hope. I see sparkling WHITE again, too.
No, I’m not done. I spent two hours just in the kitchen annnd it needs more work. But it’s getting there.
Now if I can just work up the nerve to get rid of my stacks of Cosmo magazines (uuuuuuuugh, I know, I don’t even read the damn thing anymore) and newspapers (but I worked so hard on all of them!), the living room won’t be such a disaster, either.
C’est la vie.